Thursday, March 31, 2016

March 26th
2016 we celebrated the history of Gold Butte focusing on the most notable
characters Arthur Coleman and William Garret. We came together to rebury Art
after some miscreant disturbed the final resting place of this early prospector.
We did our best to right this wrong and reburied Art’s remains, to rest once again
alongside his longtime friend William Garret.

The
circumstances that brought us together were appalling at best, but like the
resilient pioneers who settled this country, we made the best with what we had,
and rose to the occasion. The event will be remembered by all those who rattled
down the road to headquarters hoping to partake in the history, available to
those willing to seek after it. Our history is infused within the desert hills,
just a part of the landscape as the Joshua trees and weathered buttes.

The well of
history was brimming in the desert winds, proffering its narrative to those willing
to partake. The reward was a refreshing treat whose succulence could never be
recreated. One day those who knew of the way it was, will not be here to share it
with those of tomorrow. For the wellspring of history, if not recorded, revisited
and remembered will one day dry up. It
was in the spirit of remembrance that we gathered and celebrated Art Coleman
and Bill Garret.

We first
reburied Art and reworked the graves in hopes to protect from future marauding
intruders. After the graves of both men were cleaned up we held a simple
ceremony to rededicate the final resting place. Duane Magoon presided over the
service. Gene Houston gave the opening prayer. Myself, Dustin Nelson, gave the
eulogy. Lindsey Dalley dedicated that graves. The closing prayer was given by
Shem Teerlink. It was a simple affair but seemed fitting for the good ol’ boys
for which we gave tribute.

After the
service we had a pot-luck lunch and gathered to share stories and memories of
Art and Bill and of the many who have lived their lives within the backdrop of Gold
Butte. For me, eating potato salad while visiting with friends, stirring up stories
from the past, in the very place where many of those stories took place, is
about as good as it gets.

I spent most
of my time visiting with Norm Tom who wore quite a little leather off the tree
chasin cows alongside many of the cowboys in Gold Butte. He told me stories of
Jimmy Hayworth when he worked for Howard Hughes, of my uncle Moose Whitney when
he was out here running with my Grandpa Don Whitney and many other cowboys and
city folk who thought they were. Kicking our boots in the dust of Gold Butte
and being able to point to the very washes where Norm remembered working cows
and making camp is a memory to….well, write about.

One of the
highlights of the day was when the Jacobs family arrived bringing with them Art’s
original Model A Ford. The story I got was that Art left the car to the Jacobs
family in his will and it has remained in the family ever since. James Jacobs,
the son of Slat, towed the car out. He said if he had had a little more time he
could have got it running and drove it out. Running or not, it was most
excellent to see the old car reunited with this rough and rugged country. The
Jacobs family use to have the ranch just below the Nay’s at the bottom of the
mountain on the Arizona Strip side.

When all was
said and done and folks started to pack up and leave, I speculate they left
with more than they came. To the casual
passerby, who fails to behold these hills imbued with its historical perspective,
the contrast of human and nature can seem a stark contradiction. But for those
who understand and appreciate what has transpired within these surroundings,
there is an insight which pulls in harmony the contrast of humanity and nature to
reveal a more vivid landscape and an accompanying desire to conserve it. It is
these community events, where we celebrate our history that ensures our public
lands stand resolute.

I was asked to give the eulogy today for Art. I had a lot of friends who wanted to be there but could not so I wanted to share the tribute I gave. I will write up and post more pictures on the whole event in the next day or so.

I have been accused of being naturally blabby and a bit
irreverent so I guess that is why the lot fell to me for this tribute. It’s a
hell of a task to write a eulogy for a feller who died even before my parents
were born but it puts into perspective how important written history really is.
I love history, I love to hear a good story. I enjoy nothing more than sitting
under that shade of the Cotton woods with Marylyn and talking about the early
days. I enjoy my memories of taking cows to the auction with grandpa and
running into Dennis and Jim and eating lunch at the market grill and auction
house hearing about the way it used to be out here running cattle. I have read and
talked to everybody I could about the Gold Butte area so I feel like I have a
little bit of insight on the Grand ol Men of Gold Butte. I am certainly not an
authority nor claim to be but I think they needed somebody with enough hot air
and BS to tell a few stories so here it is.

As I have thought it over and tried to gain some insight into
who Art Coleman was I came up with this: If you whittle it all down to the
essentials you are left with two defining characteristics that I think sum up
the long and the short of Gold Butte. The first is the value of a reliable
friendship and the second is an appreciation for beautiful country.

The first mention I find of Art in Nevada is in Copper City
which is near Gold Butte proper. When Art arrived in Copper City the city was a
group of canvas walled tents that, if I have the story right, about 9 out of
ten were selling supplies consisting mainly of distilled beverages. Art set up his
operation and started dry sluicing a few of the wash bottoms. He had devised a
way to reuse the water to be able to run things through and make a go. However
I think by the time he got there the only thing left was hard work and a few tailings
piles of played out mines…so he moved on.

Not finding what he had hoped for this prospector continued
to ramble on down the trail. From what I can piece together Art took a little
hiatus from the prospecting trade in the early 1920’s and went into a little
more scandalous dealings running the Moapa Bar during the prohibition days. It might
have been the constant menace of being crossways with the law that pushed Art to
move on but really I think even more so, it was the call of rugged country, the
solitude found in the sage and the prospect of a few good flakes that called
Art back to the Gold Butte country.

He setup in Jumbo Basin this time to do a little dry farming
and prospecting. I would guess very little farming but possibly other endeavors
that included the distilling of agricultural products such as wheat, barley or
corn. The prospecting was good in the
washes of this beautiful country and Art was able to find a few good nuggets that
he would showcase for the weary western traveler.

It was here where he teamed up with Bill Garret who had setup
residence in the abandoned house, a vestige from the boom years of Copper City
and Gold Butte Mining District.

Garret was likewise a rambling man but whose background was
in cowboying instead of prospecting. Like Art, Garret had been hither and yon
but found solace in the hills, valleys and cactus of Gold Butte. Garret worked
for George Hartman as a cowboy. There had been a few good wet year and feed was
plentiful and the herds grew in proportion. But as we well know drought can set
in too and following the late 20’s Hartman was losing to the elements, economy
and a changing west. After things dried up with Hartman, Garret got what he
could for payment in stock and decided to lay down some roots and setup in Gold
Butte making a run at it with what he had…which he did for the next 40 years.

It has been written and told by all
those I have encountered that there was always an available seat for those
wanting to reminisce with these ol boys and if the still was running out back a
little liquid could help quench the thirst and liven and embellish any
story. It is their hospitality I think
that lives on foremost in the stories told of those who knew them.

The boom and the bust has been a part of Nevada story since chapter
one. A few good years of rain can mean enough feed to support a growing herd
and a cattle ranchers dreams. But a few dry years can pull the rug right out
from under the hopes of the same cattleman’s aspirations. Likewise the early
whispers of the next mother lode can provoke the wandering dreamer to pack up and
head for the next desolate encampment striving to strike it rich where a
burgeoning city could grow overnight and playout just a quick.

So
what was it that pushed these two wandering men to throw in together and settle
down in the rough and rugged desert? It certainly wasn’t the dreams of getting
rich. What does it mean when a
prospector lays down his pick and shovel and quits searching for the next big
lode? I speculate it was the off chance that these two men struck up a
friendship that both knew was worth its weight in gold and an appreciation for
remote country that offered what no city skyline or society dinner party ever
could. If you have watched the early morning sun bath these hills in natures brilliant
golden pallet or watched the last color slip away from the cliffs of the Grand
wash in the setting sun you need no explanation…and if you haven’t you wouldn’t
get it anyways. Art passed away in 1958 at the age of 82 and Bill died in 1961
at 81.

My parting thought is this, just last weekend dad and I sat
at the base of Grand Gulch Canyon where it dumps into Grand Wash. This
particular spot offers a unique perspective that provides perception into the
grandeur and enormity of this rugged country. From this vantage you are looking
across the Grand Wash with Tramp Ridge pointing through to the St Thomas gap
covering thousands of acres of brush and cactus. As we sat at the base of the
Grand Wash cliffs I asked dad how the hell the early pioneers and prospectors
covered such rugged country atop a horse, hell it was beating me up on our
four-wheeler with full independent suspension.

It got me thinking about what we miss as the speed of life
increases to the point where we can cover in a day in a jeep in this country
what would take weeks sitting astride horse. What are we missing because our
perspective is at such a faster pace? Are we gaining any more insights on the
meaning of life or more wisdom or just covering more territory? Maybe these ol boys had it figured out.
Beautiful country and a good friend to share it with in the end when measured
and weighed in the balance adds up to the most.